The landscape was white like frozen waves
smoke from farm chimney went straight only dispersed
when meeting the upper sky.
Ah, this innocence of virginal snow cold as nun`s cell.
The boy sat in the cow-shed warming his hands on the udder
of a cow, later, he walked on snow so pure it made crushing
the sound that broke the snow`s hymen under his foot
But there were tracks after hares, birds, wolverines, and
the opportunistic fox.
Blood in snow, like a sheet on a wedding night the sacrificing of
the lamp sanctified by priest and church.
The fox had caught a mouse that built a tunnel under the snow
thinking it was snug and safe.
A crow sits on a tree watches the scene with irony in it black eyes,
afar someone calls him in for breakfast